Mom's Big Bed
Part Fifteen
Holly's RV pulled up to the dock where the houseboat was moored. Popping open the door, my crazy collection of female relations spilled out; along with myself, Holly, and her hot little daughter Tonya. Everyone was ready to party but there was still work to be done.
The other vehicles in the cackling hippy concubine convoy pulled up right behind us and everyone pitched in unloading the RV and the cars. We began moving everything from sleeping bags to food; up onto the dock and then onto the boat.
Come to think of it, "boat" really isn't a good description. How in the hell do I want to describe this thing? Oh yeah... imagine this; the Playboy Mansion gets drunk and has sex with Bruce Wayne's yacht, (and both fucking parented this "floating love child" of a house boat).
If you can picture that in your head, you'd have a good image of what I'm talking about. I'm telling you; if the RV of Holly's was tricked out... this houseboat of hers made it look like an AMC Pacer with a broken window by comparison. Holy shit!
The houseboat had been originally owned by a guy from Mexico who I guess you might want to describe as an importer of "illicit and non-taxable pharmaceuticals." He apparently spared no expense at building this floating palace because business was good and it wasn't like the demand for his product line was ever gonna dry up in the States, right? One thing led to another and the law caught up with him on this side of the border. Too bad, so sad. Some people don't know how to be low key and live without drawing attention to themselves I guess.
Anyhow this guy skips town, the country, and if rumors are true... the continent; leaving a bunch of high priced assets just lying around for a judge to pound a gavel on and seize in the absence of an arrest. Holly knew a good thing when she saw it and snatched it up at a seizure auction a year or so before. Like I said, her business had been doing well... she might as vacation in style accordingly. According to still more rumors; she picked that big floating whorehouse up for a song compared to its real value.
The only thing was she had to move the boat from Los Angeles, (where it had been seized and where the auction had taken place), back to Lake Havasu. That was an enormous pain in the ass in itself but she did it. She saw the boat... she wanted it... she bought it. End of story. Holly is like that.
The insides of the ship were to say the least swanky, (or as my mom would say "opulent"). The master bedroom had a king-sized bed and master bath with full amenities (as to be expected), but there was also a full blown king-sized bed in the guest-stateroom, a full working kitchen, and pantry wine-closet combination, (not to mention a dining room).
Then of course there was an entertainment room with a fake fireplace, a bar, and a massive wrap-around couch unit. It turns out; that unit could be pushed together so that its two halves formed an enormous bed, (colossal really when you added the two Ottomans in the middle of the room and moved the coffee table). There was a broad flat screen on the wall of the entertainment room, (plus smaller one's in every room of the boat, for that matter). But wait that's not all,
oh hell no!
Up on the deck above the living area there were several built in lounge sofas located on a special observation deck. The top deck it turns out had special reinforced steel beams to hold the combined weight of a spillover hot tub and infinity pool, plus a pool shower. Added to this to all this weight was the wheelhouse, set forward on the upper deck. Yes, apparently there was good money in illicit big-pharma and this "humble house-boat" was a testament to that very fact.
We set about moving the supplies to the pantry and then discussed sleeping arrangements. It was decided that any "spill-over" of people not handled by the beds and the couch units could sleep in bags on the floor or out in the RV. A few of my cousins opted for the RV option, (as this meant they could make midnight runs to town for more booze, snacks, partying opportunities, and weed).
"Speaking of booze," my grandma said, "I'm going to trot on over to that liquor supply across the parking lot where the beer truck just pulled into.
You know, the one with the cow-girl trucker who flashed me?
I want to see if I can get any more bargains for beer before we shove off!"
"I'll go with ya," Holly chimed in, "we're good for wine but we're running low on gin, tequila, and scotch behind the bar. I'm afraid our last party out here on the boat diminished our supplies."
The two left for the booze store and we kept unpacking for about forty-five minutes. It was ironic because two ladies left, but three came back! Apparently there had been a conversation at the store and in addition to Grandma and Holly lugging booze, there was the cowgirl trucker with her Stetson lugging both a twelve-pack and a green duffel bag. She'd unhooked her rig and parked her semi over by our RV. It was quite evident she was coming with us on this excursion.
"Oh well," Mom commented to my Auntie Maria, "the more the merrier!"
"Hey everyone," Holly announced to the group of us as the three women came back aboard, "this is Goldie. She is the lady trucker Grandma was flashing the tits to coming up the interstate! We just COULDN'T leave her behind on shore!"
"Hello everyone," Goldie answered with a lovely British accent, "it's a pleasure to be here, if it's no trouble!"
Yes I said 'British.'
She looked like she'd stepped out of an episode of Hee Haw and sounded like Downton Abbey. It floored me too... in a pleasant and intriguing way.
"Oh no trouble at all," sniffed Grandma, "why after seeing you flash us back on the road...
and then after talking to you in the booze-mart,
we knew you were our sort of people!"
So it was easy as that. The senior hippy in the operation had spoken and there was no more to be said. That's the really cool thing about my Grandma... she'll pick up total strangers and cart them along on adventures without thinking twice. She is definitely one of those weed smoking "citizen of the world" types.
Anyhow... it didn't matter much now. Just as Grandma had no sooner tossed Goldie's duffel bag aboard, Holly's lovely ass headed up to the wheelhouse. A minute later and the engines of that floating cathouse roared to life. With Tanya and my sister casting off the bow and the stern, we lurched away from the peer underway... looking for trouble and mischief.
It didn't take long to find it either!
The hippy coven that made up my family by now had changed into swimwear and I had donned a set of swim trunks and sandals. In the spirit of the event, Goldie disappeared into the main sleep cabin and emerged a few minutes later in this absolutely teensy weensy blue string micro-kini but still wearing her cowboy hat and boots. I couldn't help but check out her ass under her spaghetti string thong as my grandma waived her over to the bar; having already mixed up a drink for her new found girlfriend.
Several of the women in the family had already been down to the bar and made up drinks for the excursion. As it turned out, I was one of the last people in the family whose hand wasn't occupied with a drink. Mom skipped in from the outer deck in her orange thong bikini and when she saw me with nothing cool at the end of my wrist...
she decided to rectify the problem.
What the hell, she was already coming back in to make her second drink...
it only made sense to make sure I had one too!
